She took a cooling step back.
“If you’ll give me your knife, I’ll cut up the mango.”
Chapter 7
Caro sneaked furtive glances at Hayworth as he picked up one of the coconuts she’d gathered.
“So, how do we get into these then?”
“The green ones, like that one—” she pointed to one on the ground, “have a refreshing water inside them that we can drink. We should be able to open them with your knife.”
He shook the one he was holding. It made a liquid, sloshing sound. “And these darker ones? Do they have the nut inside?”
“Yes. But you have to pull off the outer husk to get to it. Without a decent blade, the best way is probably to hit it with a rock until you can peel it off.”
“Right.”
He set off for the water’s edge and she watched as he wedged the coconut between two boulders. Then he selected another large rock, lifted it to shoulder height, and dropped it onto the top of the nut with a loud crack.
He repeated the action several times, and eventually pulled the hairy covering free. He held up the resulting nut in triumph, as if he’d captured the enemy’s standard during a battle.
“Success!”
Caro smiled at his enthusiasm. For all his sophistication when he was in the Ton, she had the feeling that she was finally getting a glimpse of the real Max Cavendish. The man who lurked beneath the civilized, cynical veneer. A man who took a simple, primitive pleasure in doing something so physical.
A man she found extraordinarily attractive, damn it.
He strode back up the beach, clutching his prize. The coconut looked surprisingly small in his big hands.
“Now what?”
Caro took it from him and balanced it carefully between her knees. “If we open it up, we can drink the milk that’s inside.” She located the three darker spots on the top, and used the tip of the penknife to bore a small hole. She held it up toward him. “Try it.”
“Oh no, ladies first, I insist.”
She gave a wry smile. “You just want to make sure it’s drinkable.”
He grinned. “Maybe.”
Caro put the coconut to her lips and took a sip, savoring the sweet, refreshing taste. Then she held it out for Hayworth, and her stomach clenched a little as he placed his mouth directly over the same spot hers had been without even wiping the surface.
His throat bobbed as tipped his head back and swallowed, and she clenched her fingers into a fist against the desire to reach out and touch his skin.
“Ahh,” he sighed. “Now. Shall I bash this open?”
She waved him back toward the rocks. “Bash away.” She almost finished with ‘Your Grace,’ but stopped herself just in time.
By the time he returned, she’d sliced up two of the mangos, and they sat on opposite logs with her makeshift table between them. Caro used the knife to hack out a few chunks of the white coconut meat from the split shell.
“I’ve never had mango before,” Hayworth said, taking a slice. “At least, I don’t think I have. Who knows, maybe I’ve eaten mango every day for weeks and don’t remember? I presumably ate mango in Madagascar?”
Caro rolled her eyes, still not entirely convinced he wasn’t playing an elaborate hoax on her. “Indeed, you did. Perhaps the taste will remind you. It’s a little like a peach, only sweeter, with more juice.”
She watched in fascination as he took a tentative bite, unable to tear her eyes away from his mouth.
His lips had always drawn her. They were firm and finely molded, and she’d spent far too many nights wondering what they would feel like pressed against her own. The juice from the mango coated the lower one in a wet sheen, and she had the sudden insane urge to lean forward and lick it off, to taste the sticky sweetness on him.
The heat was clearly making her delirious.
